


Keep Going

by stydia_xo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death/loss, F/M, Flashback, Future, Nightmares, emotional tether
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stydia_xo/pseuds/stydia_xo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”</p>
<p>He was doing just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Going

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. This was for a request on my Tumblr account (stydia-xo) and it feels like forever since I wrote angst. This is short, sad and pure angst you guys, just a fair warning.  
> If you want a hint it's similar to Stiles' nightmare in 3x13 Anchors but with a twist. Read to find out what I mean...

He’s running in the woods.

But it’s a never-ending circle. He can tell because he passes the stump of the old nemeton tree over and over. He can hear her blood-curdling screams and he wants to find her but he can’t stray from the relentless path his clumsy feet keep taking. The brush of the forest floor is crunching beneath his hasty strides, adrenaline and fear all he has time to feel.

“Stiles! Stiles help! Please, find me!” Lydia’s shriek of desperation echoes through the dark night sky and he pants harshly, frantically trying to take new steps only to end up right back where he was.

She’s dying. They’re killing her, the werewolves from a pack that swept into town recently. They’re fierce, viscous, and heartless and gain power and strength by brutally murdering the supernatural. And what better place to find some than Beacon Hills.

And then suddenly, her voice ceases altogether. And he doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad sign.

His answer is in the form of a huddled mass a half-mile up ahead, lying unmoving on the leaf-covered ground.

Lydia’s mangled and bloodied body is all that remains and he collapses dejectedly to his knees, emotions coursing through him and one thought repeating like a mantra,

No, no, no…

She’s lifeless and he’s grabbing and squeezing her against him like somehow the contact would jumpstart her heart. He doesn’t feel the unstoppable tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. He doesn’t hear the sobs wracking through his body, hyperventilating and gasping while he rocks her limp form in his arms.

All he does know is that his world has now ended because hers did.

He clenches his eyes shut and when he opens them again, he’s gasping forcefully, covered in sweat, jolting up to sit and realizing he’s not in the woods anymore.

He’s in his bed in his apartment. _Their_ apartment. They’re at Stanford together. He’s finishing up his last year and she’s exceeded expectations and was already working on her masters. They’re in love.

They got together the last couple of months of high school. Things got worse before they got better but it was all worth it when they could link hands and kiss and it felt right. It felt like home.

“Stiles, are you okay baby?” Lydia sits up beside him, holding up the sheets against her. She blinks her doe eyes to stare at her boyfriend in concern. She’s only wearing one of his t-shirts and her hair is a curly mess. He loves her for it.

“Yea, I just…I had this terrible dream. Remember two summers ago when we were dealing with that pack from Texas? And we were in the woods but this time you got away from all of us and then…” He swallows his dry throat, shaking his head, almost unable to finish his sentence.

He doesn’t have to because she knows what the ending was. She rubs his back and laces her fingers through his. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here right? It was just a nightmare.”

“But it felt real.” He shifts in the bed and gets a good look at her. He thanks his lucky stars that she finally loved him back. “And I can’t lose you. You know I’d go out of my freaking mind, Lyd.”

She gives him a sad smile because it reminds her of a conversation years ago. They were slowly becoming friends back then and she was still wrapped up in her first love. “You don’t have to worry, I’m right here.” She easily slips her arms around his neck and he pulls her into his lap, hugging her securely like a lifeline, two souls tied together with a red string.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, burrowing his face into her hair and closing his eyes.

“I love you too.” She murmurs, pressing a delicate kiss to his neck and combing her fingers through his hair soothingly.

He breathes in her sweet scent. It’s smells like her and only her and he doesn’t want to get rid of the way it lingers on his clothes and sheets. He feels their warmth seeping into one another to the point where he can’t tell where she ends and he begins.

But then suddenly there is coldness. And the soft, small body he’s holding isn’t there. It’s black and when he opens his eyes again he lets himself adjust to the dim lighting.

He’s in his bed in his apartment. But it’s not _their_ apartment. Not anymore. He’s at Stanford but she’s not there with him. She’s not there at all.

Because the scene in the woods wasn’t just some made up figment of his imagination, it was a vivid memory. This time around it was a nightmare within a dream and waking up from just being with her to not having her at all makes him crumble. He thinks back to his days of possession, and it almost feels like déjà vu only this time it’s worse because he’s awake and alive and she’s not.

He sits up in his bed and it feels cold without the love of his life there with him. He drops his head into his hands and feels the heaviness hang heavy on his already broken heart.

And as much as Stiles just wants to wipe it clean from his brain a part of him wants to hold onto it. He worries because every time it’s like the details of her get more blurred, less clear, almost like he’s forgetting about her. And he’d rather suffer through the hell of losing her night after night than forget the memory altogether.

Her lips, her eyes, her hair, her skin, her hands, her voice, her warmth, her scent. He remembers it all too well and he wants to keep it that way.

He pushes the heels of his hands against his eye sockets and grits his teeth as he lets himself cry silently and desperately. He thinks of a quote that has stayed embedded in his mind, after all that he’s been through,

“If you’re going through hell, _keep going_.”

He was doing just that.


End file.
